


Home Isn't A Place, It's A Person

by frubeto



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Fix-It, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Jett Reno's Wife Lives, Mostly Canon Compliant, Reunions, au where disco has a counselor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 01:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19163434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frubeto/pseuds/frubeto
Summary: un-bury your gays 2.0





	Home Isn't A Place, It's A Person

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Дом — это не место, это человек](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22423483) by [allayonel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allayonel/pseuds/allayonel), [ST_Discovery_20XX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ST_Discovery_20XX/pseuds/ST_Discovery_20XX)



> Inspired by [this post](https://captaincrusher.tumblr.com/post/183983706269/tired-jett-renos-wife-is-dead-because-the), and partly by [Mycelial Harmonies Are All You Ever Hum These Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746262) by [pencilguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pencilguin), which made me want to fix it before it was even canon.
> 
> Also a shoutout to [m_class](https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_class), who wrote the only other fic in this relationship tag. 👋
> 
>  
> 
> This is canon compliant except for Culmets, who are back together a little early.

 

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Jett snapped back to reality with a shake of her head. It had been a bad night again, staring restlessly at the ceiling taking turns with startling awake every time she managed to calm down enough to be considered dozing.

She hated the silence of Discovery’s nights. They were too… silent. No mysterious creaking that could mean a hull breach and the loss of breathable atmosphere within seconds. No suspicious crackle as the EPS relays in section H malfunctioned again. No sharp high pitched beeps alerting her that someone’s injury had taken a turn for the worse again.

Just her. With 8 hours of complete, torturing, silence ahead of her. It was slowly driving her crazy. But they had been over this.

 

“You have successfully avoided talking about anything of emotional importance since our first meeting,” Doctor Sola disagreed, “and I would like that to stop. I have barely more of an idea of what you’re dealing with than what’s written in your report.”

 

“Which still makes you my closest confidante on this ship, so congratulations.”

 

It was meant to mean that she was trying, goddammit, but somehow the snark wasn’t leaving her filters these days.

 

“Jett, you came to me,” came the expected reprimand, in that soft but insistent tone of Sola’s. “I can’t help you if you’re not open with me.”

 

She swallowed another comment and grimaced.

 

“I know.”

 

She did come to her, and that knowing fully well her sleeplessness wasn’t an isolated problem.

 

“I tried your exercise,” she offered. Not that it had helped. “But it’s like trying to convince that Greek guy he’s rolling the stone downhill.”

 

Sola sighed, and leaned back in her chair. 

After a while, she spoke up again.

 

“So you’re saying you don’t feel home, or even welcome here?”

 

Jett studied her. It was not what she’d said. But thinking about it now, it wasn’t entirely wrong either.

  
“They’re a good crew. I even like some of them. But, no.”

 

More quietly, she added, “I spent 10 months on an asteroid, I’m not sure I even know what home feels like anymore.”

 

Sola nodded.

 

“Is there anyone else?”

 

She closed her eyes. She’d made a few friends on the Hiawatha, against all expectations, but none of them had made it back. She’d read through all the casualty reports of every ship she had known people on, seeing familiar name after familiar name until she forgot about the ones she didn’t see. She’d missed months of war. And the nerve-wracking act of checking each name individually, asking the computer for their file and waiting with rising anxiety if there would be another date after their birth, just wasn’t worth it in comparison. There was only one name she’d done that for.

 

“What about your wife,” Sola asked, probably having sensed she wasn’t getting an answer, “when did you last see her?”

 

“Stardate 1346,” Jett said, glad for the easier question.

 

“Before the Hiawatha crashed.”

 

“Yes.”

 

They had been talking only a few days prior, about this and that and what they would have for dinner, as if a Klingon attack hadn’t always been just around the corner.

 

“Do you miss her?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Where is she now?”

 

She smiled.

 

“First officer aboard the USS Tereshkova.”

 

A well deserved promotion, she thought, even if it was probably born out of necessity rather than appreciation for her work, and now had led her into the outskirts of federation space. Nonetheless, she was happy for her.

 

Sola was about to ask another follow-up question, when the intercom sprang to life and Stamets interrupted them, demanding she report back to engineering. She looked up at Sola questioningly. Theoretically, as a medical professional, she outranked enough people to dispute this, and depending on what Stamets needed from her she would have encouraged her to, but she only nodded and let her go with nothing more than a promise to reschedule.

 

 

*

 

 

Jett strode into engineering a few minutes later, and found Stamets and Tilly mulling over some simulations.

 

“Alright, I’m here, what’s so important?”

 

She stopped in the middle of the space, spreading her arms slightly, until Stamets stepped around the console to meet her with a PADD.

 

“The captain wants us to jump to Aetos IV,” he explained, “but we’re not convinced the ship can take it. We’d be reemerging in an environment that could interfere with the spores and lead to-” he gestured with one hand and brought the PADD up for her to see with the other, _“unforeseen complications.”_

 

A quick look at the data told her that he was right, the ship wouldn’t like that, but her mind had focused on something else.

 

“Did you say Aetos IV?”

 

“Yes.”

 

His voice was level, and yet the question behind it clear.

 

“Shouldn’t the Tereshkova be on a mission there?” she asked, taking the PADD from him and walking over to lean against one of the consoles. Satisfied, Stamets went back to work.

 

“Yes, we’re supposed to rendezvous with them, apparently they missed a check-in.”

 

_Missed a check-in?_

She broke off that line of thought before it could go anywhere and  outwardly, only huffed at the coincidence.

 

“I’ve been trying to get a message out to them for _months.”_

 

“Well, with that thing they’re in, it’s no wonder,” Tilly said, at the same time that Stamets asked,

 

“Why?”

 

She smirked.

 

“To say _‘hi’_ to my wife?”

 

Both of them perked up at that, although for entirely different reasons, she guessed. Tilly beamed, mind full of a million questions. Stamets only had one.

 

“I thought you said she was dead.”

 

“So you and Culber are talking again, then.”

 

Maybe she had actually gotten through to them. Good.

 

Stamets was still glaring at her, though, so she shrugged and threw her hands up.

 

“I lied,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “Are you seriously gonna complain?”

 

His mouth opened.

 

His face went through all five stages of grief.

 

His mouth closed again.

 

It was a delight to watch.

 

“Didn’t think so,” she eventually said, pushing away from the console.

 

“So what do you need me to do to make that jump.”

 

 

*

 

 

Her doorbell rang. That was odd. No one rang her door unless they needed something. And at this time of day? Without an alert? Or even a comm? Highly unlikely.

 

“Enter,” she called from her couch, where she had made herself comfortable for the evening. She was only in sweatpants and a T-Shirt, but whoever wanted to disturb her just had to deal with that now.

 

It turned out to be Stamets, carefully making his way into her quarters, and carrying a bottle of what looked suspiciously like alcohol.

 

“We’ll be done with the modification by alpha,” he announced in explanation. “So you’re gonna see your wife again tomorrow. I thought you might want to celebrate.”

 

She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, it all seemed very uncharacteristic for him, but she wasn’t going to turn him down until she at least knew what he was offering, so she put down her PADD and sat up, making grabby hands at the bottle. He handed it over, and waited as she opened it and lifted it to her nose.

 

_Oh._

 

“ _Saurian?”_ she asked in her best approximation of outrage. “Commander Stamets!”

 

He didn’t miss a beat.

 

“The fact that you recognized it by smell alone doesn’t exactly speak for you, either.”

 

“You got me there.”

 

She motioned for him to sit down and fished two glasses from a small table next to her, pouring the liquor and handing one over to Stamets. She hadn’t expected him to be the one to go to for Fleet-prohibited brandy. Where would you even get that as a mushroom scientist?

 

“Linus?”

 

“Oh no,” he said, his tone the very opposite of sincere, “absolutely not. Linus is a model Starfleet officer and would never get involved in illegal traffic.”

 

She huffed.

 

“Got it.”

 

 

They drank in silence for a bit, but all the while Jett couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else on Stamets’ agenda. And soon enough, she’d be proven right.

 

“I took the liberty of reading up on Tereshkova’s mission,” he started, and there it was. He was trying to sound casual, but she knew exactly what was coming.

 

“Turns out they departed even before us. Two weeks before we picked you up off that asteroid.”

 

A pause as he waited for her to react. She didn’t. She stared back, until his whole demeanor suddenly turned soft, and it threw her more than anything else.

 

“She doesn’t know, does she.”

 

Jett sighed.

 

“No.”

 

Tereshkova’s so-called check-ins consisted of nothing more than a weekly mission report sent to Starfleet. One-way communication only. She had tried. But due to Aetos IV’s unique situation, there was no way of contacting them short of sending a ship in. Which would be this one, out of the Fleet’s options. She still didn’t know if she should be thanking or yelling at someone.

 

“Will you do me a favor?” she asked eventually, and Stamets frowned.

 

“That depends.”

 

“Talk to her first.”

 

His eyebrows went up in a comical shape.

 

“What, you want me to be the messenger so you don’t have to bear the emotional brunt? I didn’t take you for a coward.”

 

“Ha,” she said, an then, only to spite him, continued honestly,

 

“Maybe I am. I’ve been shitting my pants thinking about seeing her again. Watching you and Culber these past weeks wasn’t exactly heartening.”

 

He shook his head.

 

“That’s different. You might get the fairy tale happy ending you’re envisioning.”

 

The quip earned him a small smile as she took another sip.

 

“So much time had passed,” she argued. “She might have moved on. And then I go and jump out of a cake, _‘surprise, I’m not dead!’_.”

 

It wouldn’t be fair on her.

 

But Stamets’ glass clinked down on the table with determination as he obviously prepared a speech.

 

“No,” he said.

 

“You know I’m speaking from experience.”

 

She nodded, even if he wasn’t waiting for confirmation.

 

“I _tried_ to move on. I needed to. But I didn’t manage. And Hugh was _dead_. I’ve seen his body. The Hiawatha,” he motioned towards her, “was declared missing, but as far as your wife knows, never found. She doesn’t have any certainty. There’s still search and rescue missions being flown.”

 

A pause.

 

“I don’t know her,” he conceded. “But she loves you. And moving on under those circumstances-”

 

He shrugged, and shook his head.

 

It stung. Damned empathy. Knowing what he went through. And what she put her through. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she closed her eyes with a small frown, waiting for it to ebb off.

He was right though, she was probably out there, holding on to every last bit of hope, because what else was there to do as long as there was no solid proof of her death? She wouldn’t show it, and she wouldn’t admit it, but she was never one to be convinced by probability alone.

 

“Talk to her anyway,” she said when she trusted her voice again. “For her sake. She hates surprises.”

 

“Who doesn’t,” Stamets said – of course he did – and that settled that.

 

“She is Soyoussan, though, right? Can’t she, like, _feel_ you or something?”

 

Jett chuckled.

 

“Don’t let her hear that,” she advised, and reached for her glass again.

 

“You know the history of the USS Soyuz?”

 

“Stranded on a class M planet, mingled with the locals?”

 

Well, that was certainly one way to put it.  


“Yeah, so with degrees of mingled-ness come degrees of psychic abilities. For her it’s no more than an elevated ESP rating and slight touch telepathy. Nothing compared to whatever crazy shit Vulcans are up to.”

 

She put her empty glass down and, seeing Stamets’ fascinated face couldn’t help a wistful smile.

 

“It has it’s pros and cons.”

 

“I bet,” he said, and then grabbed the bottle to pour another round.

 

 

*

 

 

“It’s the USS Discovery, Commander. They’re asking permission to send a shuttle over.”

 

“Tell them they’re welcome to.”

 

It wasn’t often that they got visitors out here. Although it was pretty clear they brought this one on themselves.

 

“Then try to reach the captain and let her know what’s going on,” she added, and stood as the comms officer turned back to her station with an “Aye.”

 

“Nirro, you have the conn. Chen, with me. Let’s meet our knights in shining armor.”

 

 

By the time they arrived in the shuttle bay, their guests were already landing. Efficient. She had to give them that. Or they just wanted this mission to be done with, to continue whatever important Starfleet business a science vessel of their caliber was conducting, while she had had to stop several times on the way to sign off on last-minute requests the crew was putting together. Now that Discovery was here, in all th eir news-bringing, class-3-replicator-owning glory, they might as well make the most of it. Personally, she was hoping for some food synthesizer patterns that had more flavor than her desk.

 

So she waited, hands behind her back, as the trio from the shuttle approached, and she recognized an unexpected face.

 

“Captain Pike,” she greeted, once they were in acceptable distance. “I was unaware you were with Discovery.”

 

“Only temporarily,” he explained. “Enterprise is in repairs. You miss all the gossip out here, huh.”

 

“It would seem so.”

 

Once they had come to a rest in front of her, she inclined her head to continue with introductions.

 

“First officer Denise Lu’baa. The captain is still on the surface. This is science officer Chen.”

 

“Commander Burnham, Commander Stamets,” Pike finished. “We’re glad to see you’re well.”

 

There was a questioning undertone in his voice that wasn’t lost on her, so she nodded, and with one last surveying look across the shuttle bay that had just picked up the schedule again, motioned for them to follow her.

She set a slow pace, and started explaining. Why they couldn’t have made the check-in. The activity in Klingon space. The risk to the planet.

But just as she was recounting how the planetary sensors had picked up possible attack formations, Pike cut in with a stern expression.

 

“Then your duty would have been to report back and call for assistance.”

 

She stopped dead.

  
“Our duty, Captain, is to protect that planet,” she said, turning to fully face him. “We’re not their last but _only_ line of defense, and Starfleet made a promise to them.”

 

To all the people down there, working hard to get their home back to agreeable living conditions, and all the refugees somewhere out in the galaxy, hoping to someday return. 

Not that Starfleet’s Finest would know anything about the mundane day-to-day struggles of Federation citizens.

Tereshkova was not fit for battle. Alone, they wouldn’t stand a chance against the birds of prey. But they would have rather gone down with Aetos IV than leave them to their demise, when the Klingons probably wouldn’t have dared farther anyway.

 

“They’re more than a dilithium mine.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“Good,” she interrupted, keeping him from elaborating. 

 

“As I was saying – there was no time. Unlike some, we are bound by the laws of physics.”

 

He raised his eyebrows.

 

“Unlike some?”

 

“We missed that check-in less than 16 hours ago and it takes us a full rotation to get through the nebula alone,” she explained, fixing Pike with a pointed look.

 

“Discovery… has a few tricks up her sleeve,” he shrugged. “Starfleet was worried you were involved in Klingon attacks. We can’t afford new conflicts right now.”

 

_Or losing strategic advantages to the enemy._

 

“We’re fine,” she assured him, and the intercom gratefully kept her from saying anything more.

 

“ _Bridge to Commander Lu’baa.”_

 

She answered. 

  
_“The captain is on her way up and wants to speak to our guests herself.”_

 

“Understood. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

 

Good. This meant she could get out of this. She turned back to the group.

 

“The captain will discuss everything else with you. But if some of those tricks you spoke of would work for Tereshkova as well, I’d be interested to hear more.”

 

Pike looked over at Stamets for that, clearly not familiar with the specifics of the ship he’d commandeered.

 

“Uh, no,” Stamets sprang into action, “but Tilly has actually been studying this phenomenon, so if you let me have a look around engineering, she could try her hands at it.”

 

She nodded.

 

“I will show you down.”

 

Then she addressed Burnham and Pike.

 

“Commander Chen will take you to the captain’s ready room.”

 

A round of affirmative noises, and everyone started moving. It wasn’t exactly protocol, but it wasn’t explicitly against protocol either, and she knew Chen could handle this as well as she could.

Plus, this way she got to question Stamets about the weird looks he’d been giving her.

 

 

*

 

 

As Paul followed Lu’baa around the corridors, he learned that she had a background in engineering herself, and actually understood what he was talking about, answering his questions on a level he wasn’t used to from command officers, but which he could definitely appreciate, and by the time they arrived, he knew two more things for sure.

 

One, Tilly would absolutely love to meet her.

Two, if he had been tasked with finding Jett Reno’s wife on this ship, with no further information than that, he’d certainly have picked her anyway.

Although the job would have been significantly easier than expected, he mused, as Lu’baa pointed him at an interface and he spotted a familiar accessory on her right index finger. Huh. So much for moving on.

 

They fell into a silence as he worked, gathering as much information as they would need to run a few valid simulations, taking his own scans here and there. But he couldn’t quite concentrate, always keeping an eye out on their surroundings, knowing there was still another part to his mission and he should catch her in a more private setting. He was checking the logs of their subspace antennae when the lieutenant on the console next to them finally left, and he saw his chance.

 

“So,” he cleared his throat. “When does your shift end?”

 

It was a terrible conversation starter, and Lu’baa didn’t hesitate to tell him so.

 

“If that’s your pathetic attempt at flirting, I-”

 

“No!”

 

What gave her that idea? How long had it been since anyone got that idea?

She narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“You’ve been looking at me strangely the entire time.”

 

He grimaced. Great. Hugh would never let him live this down. It’d be his new favorite story to tell. Right after the piña colada incident.  _‘Remember that time you managed to flirt with a married woman? A married, lesbian, woman?’_ Paul could picture it now.

He shook his head.

 

“I wanted to talk to you.”

 

“We are talking.”

 

“It’s…” he waved a hand through he air as he turned back to the screen, “not an on-duty kind of conversation.”

 

Her eye-roll was audible.

 

“I’ve technically been off-duty since the captain arrived back on the ship. Now what _is it?”_

 

Paul mentally checked another box and then started closing down windows on the terminal. Partly stalling, searching for the right words, but also wanting to finish the business part before this potentially went downhill. When he turned back to her, she was frowning, clearly waiting for him to get on with it.

 

“Discovery will… update your databases,” he started, “but there’s something you should hear in person.”

 

She straightened. Steeled herself for what was to come. It was never good news. Good news didn’t need a careful introduction and an off-duty conversation.

 

“While on a mission,” Stamets continued, “we… discovered the remains of the USS Hiawatha.”

 

Fuck.

 

She held up a hand to stop him. She wasn’t nearly prepared enough for this.

 

For the last year, she had thought that the anxiety of the unknown was the unsurpassable worst feeling. Not being able to give up hope and let go, because there was always the chance that she was out there, somewhere, fighting her way through a sticky situation, as usual. But she realized now that she had been wrong. Lifting the box and deciding the fate of the cat was so much harder.

 

Did he say  _‘remains’_ ? Did that mean -

 

Her heart was caught in her throat and she precautiously pulled up a stool and sat. Suddenly the weird looks made sense. He’d been chosen to deliver the news and had tried to gauge her reaction. Expecting a bad reaction?

 

But then why did he have to tell her this in person? There must be other crewmembers who would be receiving bad news? Or maybe there weren’t. But why come to her? He didn’t seem like the kind of person to check for this out of the goodness of his heart. Or had he known her? No, she would remember his face if he’d been in their lives before.

 

This was getting her nowhere. She had to know. Even if at the same time she couldn’t stand to hear it.

 

“What happened to them?” she managed, voice steady, if slightly hoarse.

 

Stamets answered softly, but without any pity in his voice, and she appreciated that.

 

“They were attacked, by Klingons. Sustained significant damage and crash landed on an asteroid. That’s where we found them.”

 

Starfleet had been wrong, then. Not destroyed but shot down. Did it make any difference? She wished Stamets would just spit it out and not be this damned respectful, so she could stop fighting against that tiny shred of hope that was currently screaming at her from the back of her mind.

 

“When we flew down, we found 19 survivors.”

 

Oh.

 

Tiny shred made it to all-encompassing tremor real fast. Denise swallowed and looked up at Stamets pleadingly.

  
“If you’re not gonna say what I think you’re gonna say-”

 

“Commander Jett Reno among them.”

 

_Holy shit._

 

“She had stayed behind with the last unevacuated patients.”

 

Of course she had. Damn that woman and her big heart. She loved her for it, but just this once, couldn’t she have saved herself instead? Hiawatha’s rescue pods had mostly been found. In the first few days after the loss of contact, she had expected a call every minute. Because nothing stopped Jett Reno while she was alive enough to have a say in the matter. There had been no question she’d come back from this, making it all the more devastating when she hadn’t.

 

“She kept all of them alive for 10 months,” Stamets was saying and she nodded, mind already on a different question.

 

“Where is she now?”

 

Was she safe? Or injured? Would she have to drop everything and jump ship to come see her?

 

He smiled sheepishly.

 

“Over on Discovery.”

 

_What?_

 

“She’s here?!”

 

She was on her feet again in an instant, body tense as Stamets nodded. 

No. 

Nonono. 

This couldn’t be. It was too easy. This was a dream, surely. It was one of those dreams where her brain came up with the most elaborate, perfectly reasonable explanations for why Jett was suddenly back with her, alive and unharmed, only for her to wake up and have it all shatter in front of her as reality slowly set back in.

No. This was a dream and she wouldn’t believe otherwise until she saw her with her own two eyes, and held her in her arms, and if she was being honest with herself, probably then some.

 

 

Somehow she made it to the intercom.

 

The captain was, predictably, still dealing with Pike, and she didn’t get trough to her, but she was first officer now and had to set a good example and all that, so she cleared her plan with Nirro, and received permission to use one of their shuttles.

She turned to Stamets.

 

“When can we go?”

 

He just shrugged and motioned to the door and, not needing to be told twice, she took off towards the shuttle bay, Stamets in tow.

 

Somewhere along the way, she heard him open his communicator.

 

“Stamets to Tilly.”

 

“Tilly here. How’s it going?” a young woman’s voice sounded, with surprisingly little static, considering they weren’t using specifically optimized comms.

 

“I need your help with two things. One, I got some data from Tereshkova to see if we can further amplify their communications and transporter to work in the nebula.”

 

“Got it. What’s the other thing?”

 

“I’m headed over to Discovery with Commander Lu’baa now. I need you to grab Reno-” Stamets continued, and the casual use of her wife’s name around her was definitely something she would have to get used to again, “-and keep her company. Calm her down. We’ll meet you at her quarters.”

 

A few seconds passed.

 

“Sir? I think the connection might be bad, because I thought I heart you use the word ‘calm’? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not usually the one people go to for ‘calm’. I er, tend to be the opposite of that. And Reno is-”

 

“Only human,” he interrupted her. “You’ll do fine.”

 

Tilly reluctantly agreed, and Denise could only smile at the intimidating reputation Jett had obviously already gained around the younger officers. Definitely sounded like her wife.

 

 

*

 

 

When Reno exited the bathroom, Tilly did a double take before she let her PADD fall down next to her on the couch.

 

“Oh, look at you, all dressed up for the occasion!”

 

Reno frowned.

  
“I’m not.”

 

“Are you kidding? This is probably the first time I’ve ever seen you with your jacket zipped up, so shush.”

 

There was no way she could argue with that, and she didn’t, only shrugging awkwardly, and was that bashful Reno? Wow. Another first. 

Smiling, Tilly got up to place a hand on her shoulder, remembering what Stamets had said.

 

“You look good,” she assured her, and nodded at the flat “Thanks.” she got in return as Reno flittingly studied the wall behind her. That’s when she noticed something else.

 

“You’re shaking.”

 

Her other hand took Reno’s other shoulder to confirm, and when there was no reaction, she promptly pulled her into a hug.

 

“It’ll be okay.”

 

To be honest, she was wildly out of her depth here. She hadn’t even met Reno’s wife yet, and they had probably known each other for longer than she had been alive. But she did believe in love, and that it would always find it’s way.

 

“Yeah,” Reno said. Then,

 

“I need some air.”

 

And with that she pushed past her out the door. It was nonsense, of course, and they both knew it. The air was the same everywhere in the ship, it went through central filters, but Tilly followed behind her anyway.

 

“Sure! A nice little walk around. That’ll help.”

 

 

It didn’t help.

 

She was downright jittery, as she seldom was, her nerves like a tribble on a sugar rush, and not even the movement could calm her down. Still, she was weirdly grateful that Tilly was there, talking as always and keeping her somewhat grounded, even if she wasn’t listening to a word she said.

 

Until suddenly, she stopped, mid-sentence.

 

Automatically, Jett looked up and followed her line of sight to find out what had caused the silence.

 

Her mind went blank for a solid minute once she saw her.

 

She wasn’t even sure she was breathing. In that moment, there could have been nothing more important than drinking in the sight of her wife, back right in front of her, so her brain had canceled any and all other thought. She had been worried, in a way, that she would feel differently now after everything that had happened, but as she stood, dumbstruck, it was as if no time had passed at all.

 

Denise, on the other han d, was visibly having trouble keeping up. 

Her face screamed something along the lines of  _‘I should be feeling something here’_ , it was the one she was always wearing when her mind was pushing out emotions for the sake of overthinking. Jett could recognize it immediately by now, after all the years she’d seen it. On dates, concerts, their wedding day,…

Once, they had been returning from a vacation together, all smiles and kisses, when their shuttle suddenly jerked and alarms started blaring. And while her brain was still stuck on  _‘oh fuck, we’re all gonna die’_ \- a panic she had to carefully set aside to be able to continue – Denise went straight into command mode, knowing what to do. Later, she’d wake up shaking and crying in the middle of the night, but in that moment, she had been the high-alert, analytical mind needed for the situation, and it had saved both their lives.

And for an XO, that probably was an asset. For a functioning human being, often not so much.

Right now, there was no crashing shuttle, no problem to solve, and rational thought wasn’t getting her anywhere.

 

So Jett took a small step forward, leaving Tilly behind her, and gave a crooked half-smile.

 

“Hey,” she managed.

 

It took everything in her not to run over and fall around her neck and never let go. She could barely keep from moving. Every muscle in her body was twitching to get near. But she saw the way Denise’s hand went up to her mouth, her head shaking in disbelief, and how close she was to taking a step back herself.

And she reined herself in, instead extending a hand invitingly, signaling she’d wait.

 

And wait she did. It took an eternity for Denise to move, slowly, all the while studying her face, trying to convince herself this was real before putting her heart at any risk, until eventually she was in reaching distance and carefully held out a hand of her own, hovering above Jett’s. Their palms almost touching, but not quite making contact, as if afraid she’d go up in smoke if she did. 

 

There was one last deep breath and then she took her hand, and Jett’s eyes fluttered shut at the familiar contact, something pulling at her heart and knocking the air out of her lungs, bringing tears to her eyes. Her other hand reached up to cup Denise’s face on it’s own accord, and then suddenly she was engulfed by long arms wrapped around her, holding her wonderfully tight, and her hand fell down to her neck to hold onto for dear life while she sobbed into her shoulder and they sank to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

 

 

Time passed, though neither of them would be able to tell how much, until they had both calmed down somewhat. Jett was pretty sure she had heard Stamets and Tilly divert the odd curious passerby, so shift had probably ended, but she couldn’t care less. She was exactly where she needed to be. They could do all the awkward questions later. The catching up and the getting to know each other again. Right now she wouldn’t move.

Denise had other plans though, and Jett almost loudly protested when she loosened the embrace to pry her away from her chest and look her in the eyes, all the while gripping her like she was unconvinced of her physical form.

 

“Next time you feel like you need to go off on an adventure-” she started, her voice breaking, and the wetness in it a surprise to both of them. But then her face was still very much in shock, so maybe this was just emotional transference.

 

“… at least send me a holocard.”

 

Jett smiled, and simply settled back against her.

 

“Says the one sitting in an impenetrable nebula.”

 

 

*

 

 

“So we went out, and it was that exact place where I got food poisoning that one time, remember?”

 

How could she not. It had been gruesome, put her in hospital for a week. Of course she had advised her against the andorian sauté right away, but she had insisted.

 

“And I absolutely couldn’t bring myself to go in. So I had to make up _some_ reason to leave.”

 

Jett smiled around her coffee cup.

 

“You could have just told them.”

 

“What, that I was gonna barf as soon as I saw their pink decorative mushrooms?” Denise shot back. “You _know_ I couldn’t, love.”

 

Jett should probably have made some witty comeback then, but she stopped short at the endearment for a suspicious beat as she felt the beginning of a blush creep up her neck. And there was no more hope Denise didn’t notice when she saw the gleeful spark in her eyes.

 

“Stop it,” she warned, knowing fully well it wouldn’t help, and speared a carrot.

 

“Stop what, honey?”

 

“This crew still thinks I’m a badass.”

 

“Oh, sweet bean, and you’re afraid they’ll learn the truth? That you’re a big old softie at heart?”

 

“Yeah, that would… seriously ruin my image.”

 

Denise grinned and leaned forward conspiratorially.

 

“I think those hearts in your eyes are already doing the job for me, sugar plum.”

 

“Since when are you the embarrassing one in this relationship?” Jett deadpanned, gesturing around the room, “There’s crew around here.”

 

“Since the love of my life was miraculously brought back to me?” she said, and Jett melted a little at the honesty in her voice. She could be so soft if she wanted to. Knew exactly how to get to her.

 

“Besides, this isn’t even my crew, so.”

 

She also knew exactly how to ruin a moment. Jett shook her head incredulously.

 

“Dinner on Tereshkova, then,” she decided, and watched the face in front of her go through a myriad of different emotions in reaction, probably weighing the risk of revenge against the risk of losing a future argument about double standards. Eventually, it settled on a smile.

 

“I’d like that.”

 

Jett returned the smile and, speaking of food, remembered hers was getting cold, so she went about gathering a forkful of potato, daydreaming about datenights in first officer quarters and spending her sleepless nights safe in the arms of her wife again, when Denise grabbed her hand across the table, and it came with a rush of emotion to intense she almost dropped the fork right back on the plate.

 

Whoa.

 

Her head snapped back up to her face, watching for any signs. Was she going to have to save her from public bawling? She carefully set her fork back down.

 

“What.”

 

Denise shook her head.

 

“I’m fine,” she assured her, “it’s just-”

 

A forced exhale, and her voice dropped to something barely above a whisper.

 

“Finally starting to sink in.”

 

Jett squeezed her hand in understanding. She’d been expecting this. Maybe coming here hadn’t been the best idea. They could always leave. Take this back to her quarters. She’d only have to say the word.

 

“I’m fine,” Denise repeated as if having read her mind. “At least for now. Once we’re alone again, though, I might cry my eyes out on you.”

 

Straightforward as always. And Jett welcomed it, smiling, but she couldn’t help herself.

 

“Your dirty talk needs some work.”

 

Denise stopped. Her face going slack with shock for a moment, before she caught up just as quickly.

 

“I’m gonna… get you all wet?” she tried, and Jett snorted.

 

She was about to make another comment when she spotted Tilly approaching their table and decided to better stop herself.

 

“Hi. Commander. Commander,” Tilly greeted. “Do you mind if I join you? I don’t want to interrupt…?”

 

A quick look for confirmation and then they let go of their hands and motioned for her to sit.

 

“Tell me, Ensign,” Denise started as Tilly took the seat next to her, using her _‘settle-this-for-me-why-wouldn’t-you’_ -voice, and effortlessly switching back into their previous conversation,

 

“Would you say those are hearts in Commander Reno’s eyes?”

 

“Don’t bring her into this, Ni,” Jett said, mostly feeling bad for Tilly, who stammered and looked between the two.

 

“I erm-”

 

“I’d say there’s lots of hearts all around over here,” Stamets came to her aid, sitting down next to Jett. 

 

“Hugh not coming?” she jibed, but he only shook his head, calmer than she’d hoped.

 

“He’s uh… still mad that she’s not dead.”

 

He motioned over at Denise, whose confused expression didn’t need telepathy to be felt without seeing. She waved her fork through the air.

 

“It’s a long story,” she explained. “Idiots needed to get their shit together.”

 

Denise nodded, slowly, the meaning of  _‘you are so telling me about this later’_ not lost on her. But when it became clear that she wasn’t going to elaborate, Tilly thankfully broke the following silence before it could get awkward.

 

“Alright. So I went over your specifications,” she said, reaching for her PADD and handing it over to Denise, “and I think I have a few ideas.”

 

And then she jumped into explanations, steering the conversation towards a science debate, and Jett watched them going back and forth fondly, occasionally throwing in her own two cents.

 

They were arguing about possible data loss in a non-stationary orbit – a point that was moot if they’d only look at it right – when her eyes caught those of Sola, sitting down a few tables over. She nodded politely at her, and then returned her attention to the woman in front of her. Her brows knit together slightly, like they always were when she was following along with a line of reasoning, the small widening of eyes as she understood, and realized the implications of it, the way she absently spooned food into her mouth when not talking, and the content warmth she radiated through their joined hands that had somehow found together again. Jett sighed happily.

_Yeah. Maybe this was what home felt like._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was hands down the most difficult fic to write. I'm so glad it's finished.
> 
> Talk to me on [tumblr](frubeto.tumblr.com)


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